


Rogue Squadron’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Fanfiction

by Mayhem21



Series: The Rogue Podron Series [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Characters Writing Fanfiction, M/M, Rogue Podron, Rogue Squadron, Trashy Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayhem21/pseuds/Mayhem21
Summary: The secret past-time of the members of Rogue Squadron? Writing trashy fanfiction about each other.





	1. Star Crossed Star Warriors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SF2187](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SF2187/gifts), [tspofnutmeg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tspofnutmeg/gifts).



> Set during “Star Wars: X-Wing: The Bacta War”. Written in response to the Rogue Podron Podcast, Mission 4-4 with the additional unofficial challenge of using the descriptor “slender” as much as possible.

Bror lay limp against the couch cushions of the dark safe his, his cerulean eyes dull and morose. His secret return to Thyferra had gone smoothly, as had the initial meeting with the main Ashern planning group. Things had taken a darker turn, however, when his family received a hologram from Wedge Antilles regretfully informing them of his death at the hands of an Imperial Interdictor. 

Since then, he had been forced to move in secret on his own homeworld. Instead of acting out the open as the new patriarch of the Zaltin Corporation, he’d been forced to move underground, lest word of his miraculous survival leak out.

Worst of all, and this thought made Bror shudder and shake with grief, word had returned from Coruscant that Corran Horn was dead.

Bror’s thoughts had turned frequently to his Rogue rival since he departed the squadron. There had been no other person in the squad so close to matching his own skill and grace in flight. (He didn’t count Antilles -- Wedge was rightfully revered as a Living Legend.)

Corran was also delightfully strong, superbly handsome, and eye catchingly slender. Their frequent verbal sparring matches had always brought a stunning spark to the Corellian’s verdant eyes as the other man leaned towards him, intent on Bror’s every word.

That spark had driven Bror wild, made his want to seize Corran’s slender waist and . . . well, take the passion building between them to a new place.

Bror fought back a sob, his chest heaving.

Corran was gone.

He’d spent their brief time together keeping up a false front, unable to open himself to a more intimate relationship. He had thought, foolishly, that he would be able to return to Rogue Squadron someday.

Return to Corran.

He was starting to wonder if this was all worth it. Oh, he wished for his family corporation to bring about an end to the Xucphra Corporation and free the Vratix, especially in Isard’s recent arrival and the terrible plague ripping through the non-human population of Coruscant. But it all seemed pointless now.

A soft  _ beep _ from the nearby terminal interrupted Bror’s mournful thoughts. He lay there, his slender form cradled by the couch cushions, listening as the terminal continued to sound, a cruel sound that denied him the time he needed to work through his grief.

Unable to withstand the merciless mechanical tone any longer, Bror dragged himself upright and slowly trudged over to the terminal.

Instead of his usual garb of fashionable casual wear, he was clad only a shapeless, dull, gray coverall. It was overly warm in the tropical heat of Thyferra but what use had he for comfort any longer? What had he done to earn comfort when he had failed to be there to protect Corran? Nothing, absolutely nothing. He deserved no more than the most utilitarian of garb and damn the consequences.

Bror seated himself listlessly at the terminal, bitterness beginning to clog his throat as he keyed in his access code and brought up the demanding message.

Bror let out an audible gasp and warmth flooded his body, his heart starting to pound so hard he thought it would leap out of his chest.

_ Corran was alive. _

The Ashern had been digging for the details of exactly how Isard had been ousted from Coruscant and driven to take over Thyferra. That information now say before him.

Far from being a traitor, Tycho Celchu, the doleful, handsome, and tragic son of Alderaan, had worked with the New Republic to uncover the true spy embedded in Rogue Squadron, throwing himself to the court of public opinion in the first major trial of the new government in a potentially deadly game of spy versus spy.

Bror wasn’t ashamed to admit to the anger that had festered in his heart when he had heard the charges -- that Tycho was ultimately to blame for Corran’s death and had been charged with murder, amongst several other charges.

And Corran, delightful, clever, crafty Corran, had shown up in person to the trial of his supposed murderer, bringing with him definite proof not only of Tycho innocence, but of Isard’s many crimes.

The Ashern had even managed to capture a holo from that shocking moment.

Bror devoured the simple holo with hungry eyes. Corran’s slender frame was worn and haggard, with thin wrists and ankles peeking out from under a rough, loose brown robe. His face was pale and worn but the same intense, smoldering look filled his lush green eyes.

After several minutes of focused contemplation, Bror tore himself away from the enrapturing holo and returned to the briefing the Ashern had sent him.

He skimmed through the remaining paragraphs quickly.

The traitor? Erisi Dlarit (no surprise there, honestly)

Isard’s Super Star Destroyer? Tore its way into space from underneath the surface of Corsucant.

Isard herself had been driven away by Rogue Squadron and flew directly to Thyferra where the traitorous Xucphra had prepared the way for her arrival.

His heart leapt again and he read, re-read again and again the final piece of news. Rogue Squadron, having resigned from service in the New Republic, were fighting to free Thyferra from Isard. In pursuit of that, they were sending a team to Thyferra -- a team that included Corran.

In a daze, Bror keyed the holo of Corran back up. He had so much to do. He had to get ready. Corran would be here so very, very soon.

It was time, time for him to--

Corran flinched mid-word as the overhead lights flashed on. His head jerked around, heart racing as he instinctively hid the screen of his datapad.

Mirax blinked sleepily at him from the doorway to the bedroom.

“Sorry,” she yawned and leaned against the doorframe. “Coming to bed soon?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Corran awkwardly waved the datapad at her. “Just need to finish this report,” he said in a tight voice. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and feel the flush on his face.

“Alright, finish soon.” Mirax yawned again, blinking slow, sleepy eyes, then turned and disappeared into the bedroom, the door sliding shut behind her. The overhead lights went out again.

Corran sat in the dark room for several long moments. Finally, he sighed, and closed down the document. He just wasn’t feeling it now. But maybe . . .

He dug into the hidden pocket of his robe and withdrew a new datacard, swapping it with the one in the datapad.

Minutes later, he was deeply embroiled in a different story, one he’d been working on since the mass resignation. Asyr was starting to catch on to Gavin’s torrid affair with Sheil and Tycho was getting ready to leave Wedge for . . . better Corellian prospects.


	2. Bros in Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bror has plenty of inspiration so why can't he get write the story he wants?

Bror tossed himself onto the couch in the safehouse, flopping onto his back with his hands tucked behind his head. As Corran stalked by, Bror tossed him a jaunty wave, grinning smugly as the Corellian threw a glare his direction.

Mirax, following closely behind Corran, merely shook her head in exasperated amusement. It didn’t matter how mad Corran was -- she was fully on board with the clothing Bror had picked out for Corran.

The Thyferran let his eyes linger first on the other pilot’s long, pale legs and then a bit further up as he disappeared into one of the small bedrooms. Despite his protests, Corran had ended up in a pair of fairly fitted shorts. The humidity of the bacta world was simply too high for trousers to be comfortable and, really, it was important that the visiting humans blend with the local populace.

Of course, most Thyferrans wore more flowing clothing than Corran had ended up in. But that would have disguised the strength Corran had rebuilt since his time in Lusankya, not to mention some of his other . . . attractive attributes.

Knowing Corran was unlikely to step out of the spare bedroom anytime soon (even with Zaltin bacta, the injuries he had sustained would require rest in order for him to recover properly), Bror stretched an arm out to the small table in front of the couch and retrieved the datapad sitting on it. 

It only took a moment for Bror to insert his special datacard and call up the text file he had been working on earlier that day. 

Corran Horn in shorts. It was truly inspirational.

* * *

_ “This really isn’t necessary,” Corran murmured, discomfort in his voice as he glanced around the high end clothing store. _

_ “Nonsense,” Bror insisted, pushing another pair of shorts into his arms. “You need to blend in, don’t you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “And while I don’t mind sharing my clothes with you, I imagine you’re find them a bit, well, snug.” _

_ “I can put up with it for the short time we’ll be he-”  _

_ Corran’s voice cut off as Bror abruptly pushed him to the dressing rooms. It only took a few moments for the two men to disappear into the furthest room, scarcely larger than a small closet. _

_ The clothes in Corran’s arms fell to the floor as the Bror stalked close, absently sweeping the pile to the side with his foot.  _

_ “You’ll put up with it?” Bror purred, closing in on Corran, trapping him against the wall. “Or do you prefer it? Knowing everything you’re wearing is mine? That it’s been on my own body?” _

_ Corran stared back, his brilliant green eyes locked onto Bror’s own. _

_ “Bror-” _

* * *

Bror scowled at the datapad. He swung up into a seated position then firmly hit the DELETE key. Corran would never just give in like that and definitely not in public! Corellians had the most maddeningly prudish streak sometimes.

Once the few paragraphs he’d written were gone, he decided to try again.

* * *

_ “What is your objection to shorts?” Bror demanded in an exasperated voice. _

_ Corran glared at him and then at the shorts the other pilot was holding out at him.  _

_ “They’re something kids wear,” he insisted. _

_ “And you’re too grown-up for that?” The Thyferran’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, tossing the shorts aside. “Or is it that you need some . . . help . . . getting into the right mindset?” _

* * *

Bror stared in horror at the datapad. No. Just . . .  no. Where had that even come from?!

Delete. So much delete.

* * *

By the next morning, Bror was in despair. Corran’s bare legs were enticing, delectable, and inspirational. Very inspirational. The wrong kind of inspirational.

‘ _ I want drama, _ ’ he mentally wailed.  _ ‘Emotion, conflict, reunion. Not just lust.’ _

In the kitchenette, Corran was pouring two cups of caf, one for himself, the other for Mirax. Bror watched silently, sitting on the couch holding his own steaming mug and the datapad sitting strategically in his lap. Once the caf had been poured, Corran walked back to the bedroom, bare feet silent on the cool tile and his linen shorts swishing softly as he walked.

Those damned shorts.

Days passed as they settled Elscol, Sixtus, and Iella in with the Ashern rebels. Throughout, Bror struggled to break through the worst writer’s block he’d ever encountered. 

Once their task was complete, Bror joined the others on the shuttle that would take them back to the rest of the Rogues. He quickly disappeared into his cabin, holding the memory (and a few secret holos) of the joy of Corran Horn in shorts.

One more try, he promised himself. One more try before he just shelved the idea entirely for good.

* * *

_ The celebration had spread across all of Thyferra. All of the Ashern plots and plans had ultimately proved unnecessary thanks to a horrible strain of swift-acting food poisoning that had struck down most of the Xucphra Corporation, Erisi Dlarit, Fliry Vorru, and even Isard herself. _

_ Zaltin had effortlessly moved into the vacuum and opened the floodgates on the bacta supply, allowing enough of the live saving liquid to flow to Coruscant and wipe out the remaining elements of the Krytos virus. _

_ The other members of Rogue Squadron had arrived on Thyferra a few hours earlier and were happily joining in on the Zaltin and Ashern celebration. _

_ Bror stepped out onto the balcony of the Zaltin family headquarters, needing a moment to clear his head. He was surprised to see Mirax already there, staring wistfully out across the city. _

_ “I was hoping I’d run into you,” she said, her voice soft. She smiled. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes but she was, overall, seemingly at peace. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a few days now but there never seemed to be a moment where I could pull you away.” _

_ “Yes, it has been quite hectic,” Bror agreed. The sudden passing of the Zaltin patriarch had taken everyone by surprise. Bror had found himself being handed the reins of power and had been busy overseeing the bacta shipments to Coruscant, rounding up the remaining Imperial elements, and getting the paperwork started to bring Thyferra into the New Republic. _

_ Come to think of it, he realized, he had hardly seen Mirax and Corran. They had been inseparable when they first arrived planetside. Once Isard and Xucphra had fallen, Corran had led a medical team up to Luskanya and had rescued the prisoners being held on that ship. Since then, the pair had seemed distant, almost as though they were avoiding each other. _

_ “Is everything alright?” Bror asked, suddenly concerned. _

_ Mirax blinked at him, then smiled softly in appreciation of his gentle concern. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. _

_ “We just came to a realization,” she explained. “I’m a smuggler. I can’t be pinned down to just one planet.” She stepped away from Bror and spread her arms, looking up at the perfectly clear night’s sky. “There’s a whole galaxy out there for me to explore. It’s calling to me.” _

_ “And Corran?” Bror asked. A flash of insight came to him. “He can’t join you,” he stated, answering his own question. _

_ “The stars don’t call to him the same way.” Mirax looked back at Bror. “He needs a world like Thyferra to protect and call home. He’s driven to protect people. Even more so with his newfound Jedi heritage.” _

_ “The Jedi were great guardians,” Bror agreed.  _

_ The pair were silent for a moment, basking in the sounds of celebration behind and around them, the silvery light shining from the sky. _

_ “There are a few members of the Xucphra Corporation that survived. And some Imperials,” he commented in an idle voice. _

_ Mirax smiled again and nodded. _

_ “It would probably help to have a Jedi or a security officer of some sort to track them down,” she agreed. _

_ “I don’t suppose you know one I could hire,” Bror asked, a sly look in his eye. _

_ Laughing, Mirax nodded. _

_ “You’ll have to make it very official sounding,” she replied. “He’s too proud to say what he really wants.” _

_ “And that is?” _

_ “Well, friendship, family.” She paused. “Companionship. An equal,” she added pointedly, staring directly at Bror. _

_ “I might know someone who’d be able to provide that.” _

* * *

Bror dropped onto the small bunk, clutching the datapad and its precious card to his chest.

He was in heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You know what was hard with this one? Keeping it clean! Dear god, those two have a lot of tension to work out!


End file.
